


Speechless

by Not_You



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Coulson Lives, Double Dating, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mute Clint Barton, Muteness, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-08
Updated: 2013-06-25
Packaged: 2017-12-10 18:59:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/789139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_You/pseuds/Not_You
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a kinkmeme prompt about Clint being a situational mute who only speaks on missions and falls in love with Bruce.  And then they sleep with their good friend Tony.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"So it's not because of Loki?"

"Nope." Coulson shrugs, hospital bed cranked up to conversation height. "It could easily be related to childhood trauma, but as far as I know, he's always been like that."

"Huh." Steve takes a moment to absorb this. "So he can talk, but doesn't."

"It used to be called 'elective mutism', but it's not really something people choose. He usually communicates pretty clearly. He knows sign language and so does Romanov, and he's willing to write things down if he has to." He smiles, picking at one of the orange slices on his tray. "Just another SHIELD eccentricity."

Steve grins. "I've managed some pretty eccentric men in my time."

"I think this one won't be much of a problem."

And Coulson is right. Clint isn't a problem. He doesn't say a word, but he laughs, beats the hell out of everyone at videogames, and eats his share at meals. He seems to be in good health, and has cheered up a lot since realizing how much he had managed to minimize the damage to SHIELD even under mind control. Phil being alive doesn't hurt, either, and Clint visits him to gesture emphatically, laugh, and say nothing. He can even flirt without speaking, and as he gets more comfortable with them he exhibits this talent. His eyes have to speak for him most of the time, and necessity has made them eloquent. The first gala Tony ropes them all into attending ("If I have to suffer, so do you") is a notable example.

Tony casually prods Bruce's side as he goes by, muttering, "Chill, big guy. Tension's spoiling your lines." And it's true, Bruce's hunched shoulders are doing violence to some beautiful tailoring. He sighs, and makes himself relax by sheer force of will, everything settling into place. Tony has of course outfitted everyone who isn't Natasha in her red gown or Steve in his dress uniform, even if Clint can get white tie any time he needs it through SHIELD. Tony had just said that he needed a set of his own, and no amount of eye-rolling could convince him otherwise. But right now Clint is profoundly grateful as he drinks in the sight of Bruce dressed in something that actually shows him off. Bruce catches his eye, and Clint holds it for a long moment, before making his way down to Bruce's feet and then back up again with appreciation so blatant it makes him blush. Meeting his eyes again, Clint gives him a wide, sunny smile.

Bruce isn't sure what to make of Clint sticking by him all night, keeping him supplied with tonic and lime and the good little canapés made with bleu cheese, but it isn't precisely unpleasant. He even freezes out a few particularly irritating people with his silence, using it to draw others in. He stays close, but he doesn't touch, and by the end of the night Bruce is distinctly flustered.

"Tony, what the hell is Clint doing?"

"Hitting on you. You don't want him, I'll take him."

"Didn't know you were bi."

"I wouldn't go that far, just flexible."

"…You seriously think he's hitting on me?"

"Oh my god, are you serious?" He stares at Bruce with dark, pitying eyes. "Of course he is. He looks at you like he wants to eat you with a goddamn spoon."

Bruce blushes, and practically flees out to the limo (Christ, what am I doing here?) but Clint has beaten him to it, and just favors him with a bright, warm smile, holding the door for him. Bruce has to admit defeat and meekly climb in. Clint follows and for a moment Bruce is afraid the other guy is going to show up, he's so damn nervous. But Clint doesn't invade his space, just settles next to him, a friendly silence. Tony is happily drunk and babbling a mile a minute, and Bruce chuckles, agreeing that the media is being unnecessarily unsupportive of those African chicks and the piss generator, that they're overlooking the real elegance and utility of the thing and just being douchenozzles about it. Bruce agrees readily enough, and Clint grins, just watching and listening as they ramble through science and politics and pop culture and bizarre sexual practices and whether or not Steve is going to blush himself to death because Pepper is here and Pepper is a _lady_ , not a lady warrior like Natasha.

Clint really seems to hate speaking. He loves to laugh and enjoys their company a great deal, but the only time he speaks off-mission is when a thunderstorm wakes him from a nightmare. He's been asleep on the couch for a while now, a touching display of trust as the others play poker. They've just noticed Clint's uneasy twitching when a loud crash of thunder wakes him. He sits bolt upright and demands a situation report, blue eyes cold and focused. 

Natasha just smiles sadly. "No situation, Barton. Go back to sleep."

When she says that the tension flows out of Clint, and he smiles, the almost pained look that crosses his face whenever he has to speak vanishing. Soon he's back in the game, indicating the number of draw cards with his fingers and bluffing Tony without a word. The contrast is incredible, and Bruce wonders when this began, since Clint can speak perfectly fluently when he must.

Days later, Bruce asks him about it. They're in the kitchen and Clint is peeling potatoes while Bruce washes mushrooms. "Clint, did you always not talk?" He looks over to see the answer. Clint sets his work down and indicates a height about three feet off the floor with one hand, making mouth motions with the other. He brings the first hand up about a foot, closing the other into a fist as he does. He finishes with an exaggerated shrug and gets back to work.

"Huh. Doesn't surprise me that you don't know. Oh well. You communicate pretty well, and you're great on missions. I do wonder if that hurts you somehow, though."

Clint makes a teetering gesture with one hand and shrugs again before miming extreme tension.

"So it worries you."

Clint nods, and then shrugs again, peeling a potato in one perfect movement, dropping the single strip onto the pile. They have to boil a lot of potatoes to have enough for Thor, but it's worth it to introduce him to mashed potatoes and gravy. Steve is heartbreakingly thrilled with it too, and Clint beams, catching Bruce's eye with such honest affection that he blushes a little, ducking his head over his plate.

After dinner Clint corners Bruce in the kitchen, gently cupping his face in one and looking into his eyes for a long moment before leaning in and kissing him. It's soft and sweet at first, then deepens, and Bruce moans softly into his mouth, blushing again.

"I, uh… we'll need to take this slow, okay?"

Clint nods, and kisses his cheek. Bruce smiles, doing the same and then nuzzling a little, just loving Clint's scent. A second later Clint looks up, and Tony laughs, spreading his hands peaceably. "Nevermind, it can wait. Carry on!"

Clint gives him a crisp salute and then turns back and kisses Bruce again as Tony walks out.


	2. Chapter 2

"Robot on your six, Cap," Clint says, Barton voice crisp and sure. Steve whips around and bashes the thing with his shield, sending parts flying.

"Thanks, Hawk."

"Any time. Thor, right above you—nice shot."

After that it's pretty much over except for the mopping up. Clint is grinning from ear to ear when they see him again as he swings down from his perch. Hulk grunts and scoops him up with both hands, holding him at eye level for a while. They share something in their silence, and then Clint just says, "Hey, Big Guy," like he's a normal person who talks. He doesn't seem tense at all, but doesn't say a word over pizza and beer, reenacting the best parts of the battle with face and hands and that bright laughter that comes as easily as speech doesn't. Bruce is exhausted from his transformation, gnawing on a crust as he watches Clint. He knows it's silly, but he can't get over the feeling that there's some kind of… not a reason, but a key. Something that turned Clint from a talking child into a silent man. Bruce doesn't want to ask too much, because he doesn't want Clint's silence to come between them. Bruce loves Clint just the way he is, and he doesn't want to seem like he's trying to fix him. Just as he's thinking this, Clint looks right over at him and smiles, taking his hand and squeezing it the way he does when he's feeling affectionate and/or concerned. 

"I'm okay," Bruce murmurs, returning the pressure. And then Clint just dips his head and kisses Bruce's hand right in front of everyone, smiling softly as he straightens up again. Bruce blushes, pressing Clint's hand before pulling away to stuff more pizza into his face because there is no hunger in the world like post-transformation hunger. Clint smiles again, and goes back to his own plate. There's also no fatigue like post-transformation fatigue, and as soon as he has consumed an entire large pizza Bruce staggers off to bed, Clint supporting him. Bruce is weak and a bit dazed, and enjoys just leaning on Clint and feeling his coiled strength. Clint makes a little humming noise, and sits Bruce on the edge of the bed, pushing him back and helping him bring his legs up. Bruce sighs and lets Clint tuck him in, purring when Clint stretches out beside him and wraps an arm and a leg over him. "Love you," Bruce says softly, and Clint coos, nuzzling him. It's been months, but Bruce meant it when he said they would have to take it slow. It takes time to teach the other guy that when Clint makes Bruce's heart race, it's a good thing. As it is, Clint just pets Bruce's hair and cuddles him as he drifts into a deep sleep.

When Bruce wakes up, Natasha is there, signing with Clint. Bruce is still learning, but he can now follow the gist of all but the fastest and most esoteric signs.

_Yeah, I was thinking we should go to big blue fish place, we just haven't had time._

Natasha smiles. _Well, if you find time and want to make it a double date, Maria does love sushi._

"I didn't know you were dating Maria."

"That's because my personal life is personal and so is hers."

Big blue fish place turns out to be named Umi to Oka, but it is large and blue and Clint's solution is much faster than finger-spelling. The food is also amazing, and Agent Hill turns out to be surprisingly good company. She also provides someone to split a big Sapporo with Clint, since Bruce doesn't drink and Natasha likes sake. Best of all, the servers seem to be used to Clint. He carries little cards in his pockets that say things like 'Refill, please', 'Check, please', and 'Thank you' in his careful printing. Bruce loves them, and reaches over to re-prop the refill one against Clint's water glass when it falls down. Clint smiles at him and kisses his cheek.

After dinner they make their way to an art museum to walk it off. Clint is fascinated by a range of vast and abstract sculptures, and is doing quite well until a woman asks him the time. He holds his watch out to her, and she grimaces like his hand is dipped in shit. His eyes widen as he realizes his muteness has been mistaken for rudeness again, and he looks to Bruce for help, blue eyes desperate. Bruce immediately abandons the painting he was looking at, making his way over and putting an arm around Clint.

"He's mute, it's not personal."

"Oh!" She flushes scarlet and thanks Clint profusely before almost running away. Bruce pats his shoulder. 

"You need a card that says that, I think."

Clint nods, and pulls out a blank one, printing, _I'm mute, it's not personal._ on it and tucking it away with his other stock phrases.


	3. Chapter 3

They sleep together literally if not figuratively, and Bruce is glad because he wakes up when Clint thrashes and talks in his sleep, and can shake him awake and hold him tight. Clint only talks in his sleep when he's having bad dreams, and he whimpers and clings to Bruce, hiding his face in Bruce's chest and trembling for a long time before he finally calms down. Bruce just rubs his back and waits it out.

"Are you okay?" Clint nods, still clinging. "You wanna communicate about it?" 'Talk' seems in very poor taste just now. Clint shakes his head and clings for a long time more before nodding. He sits up and picks up the notebook at his side of the bed.

_I was dreaming I was back home, with my dad and my brother. Mom was crying, and she had these cuts all over her. I was trying to stop the bleeding, but they didn't care, and I kept asking them to help even though the words made me choke._

"Jesus," Bruce says, and hugs him tightly. "I... My home was like that." Clint's arms tighten around Bruce. "My father hated me, and he hated my mother for loving me." He swallows hard, and pulls away. "I'm sorry, I can't talk about this, I think…" He feels it ripple across his skin, and runs to the containment cage they've built for the Hulk. He gets the door shut behind him just in time, the transformation crashing over him.

Hulk snorts and looks around wildly, but he and Banner are in the safe cage. It was something about the bird man, though. "HAWK?" Hulk asks, pacing the clear wall. He's about to roar when Hawk is suddenly there, little hands on the not-glass.

"It's okay," Hawk says, and Hulk feels better.

"GOOD." He sits down in the middle of the floor, looking around. "WANT HAWK." Banner says Hawk is Clint, but Clint is harder to say. Banner's mouth can do it, Hulk isn't so sure about his own.

"Okay," Hawk says again, and hits the right buttons to come in. Hulk scoops him up and holds him close, calming down until Banner comes back.

Clint looks into Bruce's eyes, stroking his hair. "Sorry about that," Bruce mumbles. "I can't tell you without hulking out, but it's in my file." Clint just nods, and keeps petting him, finally helping him up and all the way back to bed, where he tucks him in and wraps around him.

The next day Clint comes to him with tears streaming down his face. "Clint?" Bruce asks, and Clint just plows into his arms and holds him, trembling. Bruce rubs his back. "Are you okay?"

 _A-R-E Y-O-U?_ Clint finger-spells so he doesn't have to let go of Bruce. _I R-E-A-D Y-O-U-R F-I-L-E._

"As okay as I can be, I guess. Sshh, don't cry."

Clint just holds onto him for a long time, and finally pulls away and scribbles on a notepad for a while.

 _Is there anything I shouldn't do?_ the note says, _If I ever remind you of your father I'm going to want to kill myself._

"I don't think you ever could, Clint. He wasn't my father, he was a monster."

Clint nods, and kisses Bruce softly, holding him close. They stay that way for a long time, finally interrupted by Steve, who blushes.

"Sorry, guys. Tony was just wondering if you wanted to watch me watch Star Wars."

Clint laughs at that, and looks to Bruce again, with an appealing little tilt of his head. "It does sound fun," Bruce admits, and he takes Clint's hand and leads the way out to the main viewing area. It's good to see the old, non-special edition movies again, and Clint cackles when Steve asks why they're starting with part four.

"Trust us, Steve, parts one through three aren't worth the time," Tony says.

"They were made after the fact, and probably shouldn't have been," Bruce explains, and Steve nods, already familiar with the concept of prequels and sequels and their general badness.

Actually seeing someone gasp in surprise at the revelation that Darth Vader is Luke's father is like seeing a unicorn, and Tony says so, making all of them laugh. Even Steve, whose mind has just been blown. Looking around, Bruce guesses this is what family is supposed to feel like.


	4. Chapter 4

When Bruce finally feels ready, there's no fanfare. It just feels right to take Clint's hand from its place on his waist and move it to his aching cock. They both still have their pants on, but Clint moans, squeezing gently. Bruce shudders and eases himself out of his pants as Clint does the same. He moves slowly, giving Bruce plenty of time to object, but Bruce wants this. Wants it badly, and has for a long time. He cups Clint's face in both hands and kisses him hungrily, pulling Clint down on top of him. They're on the couch on Clint's floor, and the summer sun comes pouring in through the window, warming them and painting their skins with gold as Clint straddles Bruce, leaning down to kiss him. It's soft and hungry, the two of them moving in a silent dream. Clint's calloused hands are curious and gentle with every part of Bruce, and he sighs like he's the one being touched when he wraps one hand around Bruce's cock, stroking him slow and gentle. Bruce sighs and rocks up into the touch, utterly melted under Clint. They still need to move slowly, but Clint seems to understand that. He plucks Bruce's glasses off with one hand and sets them aside, the other still moving on his cock. Nuzzling into the side of Bruce's neck, Clint makes the deep humming noise that means complete contentment, rocking against Bruce's thigh. He leaves a wet streak of precome as he moves, and Bruce purrs at the slickness and heat of it, hands clutching at Clint's back.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful," he breathes, and Clint just purrs and wriggles in his arms. Bruce chuckles and then his breath catches as Clint does something amazing with the tip of one thumb on the head of Bruce's cock. "God, Clint…" Clint kisses him, rough and just right, his grip tightening and making Bruce groan. "Clint, I'll come if you keep doing that." He's not surprised when Clint just beams down at him and keeps doing exactly what he's doing. Bruce writhes and groans and finally coats Clint's hand in slickness, shuddering to a stop beneath him. Clint grins and kisses him again, still hard. "Want a hand with that?" Clint nods, and Bruce grins up at him, taking Clint's cock in his hand and working to figure out just what he likes. Clint purrs and moans, incredibly wet, thrusting into Bruce's hand faster and faster. He likes it as quick and light as Bruce doesn't, and Bruce adapts his touch accordingly, teasing Clint over the edge. He comes with a low, rusty noise from deep in his chest, face buried in Bruce's neck as he bucks and shudders. Bruce sighs, rubbing Clint's back, basking in sun and silence. He tells Clint softly that he's beautiful and perfect and everything he needs, and Clint purrs, kissing him deeply.

After that, Bruce finds himself at the mercy of Clint's overactive libido and not really minding. Clint watches him with smoldering eyes and regularly grabs him by the hand to drag him off to make out with him or give him a hand job. He doesn't press for more, but his eyes shine when Bruce drops to his knees, and he tangles his fingers into Bruce's hair and groans softly, leaning back against the wall as Bruce eases him out of his jeans. Free at last, he grins down at Bruce and gently tugs his hair. Clint cocks his head in that inquiring way, saying _do you like that?_ quite clearly. Bruce shudders. "Yeah. You can pull a little harder if you want." He does, and Bruce moans, sliding his mouth over the tip. It's been a long time since he has done this, and he shudders, ignoring the voice that in his head that sounds like his father telling him he's a monster. Clint's hands in his hair help keep him here, and he moans and swallows the full length of him, groaning deep in his chest because it's so fucking good, Clint heavy and alive on his tongue. Bruce sighs and fucks his mouth on Clint, listening to his quiet, grinding sounds of pleasure and loving the way Clint tugs his hair. It only hurts a little, and the feeling crawls down his spine all the way to the dark place where the Hulk lives, making the big guy sit up and purr. Clint makes a high, breathy noise that Bruce has come to know and love, and Bruce stays on him, swallowing the salty-bitter taste.


	5. Chapter 5

"Look out!" Clint's voice snaps out as sharp and clear as it does on any mission, making Bruce jump. They've just been wandering along hand in hand like any other couple in the city, and now Clint's grip is like a vise. Bruce looks around to see a man jumping out of the way of a car that honks, just clips the edge of his trouser leg, and wobbles on.

"Close one," Bruce says, his own heart pounding. Clint nods and shivers and Bruce hugs him and leads him to a bench. "You all right?" Clint makes a wobbling gesture with one hand, so they just take a minute. Bruce kisses Clint's cheek and just holds him while he recovers from having to speak so unexpectedly. And so loudly. Increased volume seems to increase Clint's tension, and he had shouted at the top of his lungs. Bruce rubs his back and guides him through some deep breathing. He finally sighs and relaxes, kissing Bruce's cheek with gratitude in his eyes. Bruce smiles. "Feeling better?" Clint nods and stands up, pulling Bruce with him.

Back at the tower Clint fixes himself a drink, pouring tonic and lime for Bruce and cuddling up to him on the couch. Natasha comes in a moment later.

"Had to talk?" Clint nods, and Natasha comes over and pets him. "High stakes?" Clint nods again, setting his glass down and signing the story. Natasha nods. "I see."

"I'm proud of you," Bruce adds, kissing Clint's cheek and making him beam.

 _Good_ Clint signs, and crawls into Bruce's lap. Natasha smiles and leaves them alone while Bruce rubs Clint's back and feels his muscles slowly un-tense.

"Better?" Clint nods, and kisses Bruce deeply, threading his fingers into Bruce's hair. "Good," Bruce murmurs into Clint's mouth, and then doesn't speak for a long time, feeling like he has to kiss away the taste of words. Clint melts into his arms, making happy little noises that have nothing to do with speech.

It's just as well that Bruce is so used to Clint's silence and all the little gestures that let Bruce know what he's thinking. Not long after their walk, he comes back from a SHIELD mission minus four fingernails and unable to form most signs without pain. Bruce does his best not to make him, interpreting glances and head tilts and clumsy gestures with bandaged hands. Coulson is back on desk duty and was able to debrief Clint with yes-or-no questions, so Bruce is able to just read the file, unsure if he's more sickened or impressed that Clint removed them himself, using them as lethal projectiles. He can't waste too much time on repulsion, though. Clint did what it took to come back to him, and that's what he says when Clint looks from the hard copy Bruce is shredding to his face, eyes full of worry.

"Besides," Bruce adds, coming closer and pulling Clint into his arms, "I don't think the Hulk's alter-ego gets to pearl-clutch about his sniper boyfriend's tactics." Clint smiles, and kisses Bruce's chin and then up along his jaw, pausing to press one to his lips before nuzzling his ear and nibbling gently. Bruce shudders and holds Clint tighter, compensating for Clint's careful grip, both of them tender with his wounded hands. "God, Clint…" Bruce whispers as Clint gently traces the whorls of his ear with the tip of that silent tongue. Clint hums, nibbling and pressing against him. Bruce growls, one hand gripping Clint's perfect ass. "Bed?" Clint nods, kissing Bruce's neck and pulling away to lead him there. Bruce follows, and once the door is shut behind them he undresses Clint to spare his wounded hands, kissing each cut and bruise he finds. Clint shudders and sighs, making occasional pained hissing noises but never pulling away. He strokes Bruce's hair with bandaged hands, standing while Bruce sits on the edge of the bed, covering him in kisses. Once Bruce is satisfied that Clint is in one piece, he pulls him down onto the bed, pressing him onto his back.

Clint moans when Bruce opens his pants to line his hard cock up against Clint's, and clings to Bruce as best he can as Bruce ruts on him, groaning and covering Clint's face in kisses, whispering that he's perfect and beautiful and amazing. Clint gasps and writhes, biting Bruce's shoulder and holding on the way he can't with his hands, making little muffled noises as he comes. Bruce isn't far behind him, groaning. He rolls onto his back and holds Clint pillowed against his chest as they both catch their breath.


	6. Chapter 6

Bruce towels his hair as he wanders out of the bathroom the next morning to find a poor junior SHIELD agent utterly failing to understand Clint's attempt at a supplemental report. Clint huffs and shifts like he's barely keeping himself from stamping his foot. He fumbles for his cards and stops with a hiss, new red showing on his bandaged fingers. He growls, nursing his hands up by his mouth and sulking.

"I'm sorry!" The poor kid yelps, and Bruce wanders over, putting an arm around Clint.

"Maybe I can help." Clint leans into his damp side, relieved. Bruce is wearing pajama bottoms, and doesn't feel the need for a shirt nearly as keenly as he would have in his youth.

"Please. I'm so sorry, Barton, don't screw up your hands or Fury will kill me."

Clint laughs, and then looks to Bruce. _Ready?_ the tilt of his head says. Bruce nods, and translates Clint's glances and truncated signs and stilted gestures in answer to all of SHIELD's questions. When they're done, the kid leaves with a last apology, and Bruce sits down with Clint and lovingly cleans and rewraps his poor hands.

"I still can't believe you did that and it worked." Clint grimaces and wrinkles his nose, agreeing that it's pretty gross. He then smiles winsomely at Bruce. _But you still love me, right?_ Bruce grins. "I love you, Clint." Clint beams, and kisses him.

That's one aspect of Clint's silence that Bruce hasn't quite understood. The whole I-love-you thing. On that one phrase, Clint's silence stops being comforting, and Bruce has no idea. He keeps having no idea until he walks in on Tony saying, "Well, maybe if you made it your mission, you could say it."

"Say what?"

"Anything Clint thinks needs saying. You know, some kind of psychological clean and jerk."

Bruce sighs, and settles beside Clint on the couch. "Don't make yourself uncomfortable, Clint."

Clint nods, running his mostly healed fingers through Bruce's hair. Tony doesn't say anything at the time, but does catch up with Bruce later.

"You know, it's actually bothering him."

"What?"

"It's bothering Clint. There are non-mission things he wants to say to you. And not to the big guy, which is fucking fascinating, by the way."

"I still don't know why he talks to Hulk."

"I'm starting to think it's an animal thing. No offense."

"None taken. What do you mean?"

"He talks to animals. Not much, but he does. JARVIS caught him with some stray cats and I've been keeping my mouth shut. Oops."

Bruce just chuckles, trying not to worry. "Well, I guess he'll forgive you. I just don't know why he hasn't mentioned it to me."

"Personal reasons, don't get uptight."

Bruce can't help but be a little nettled by this, and after talking to JARVIS, he lies in wait for Clint. Soon enough Clint comes back, and smiles to see Bruce waiting for him, coming over to kiss his cheek. His hands are still healing, but he can sign more fluently now.

_What's up?_

"You can tell I've been waiting, huh?"

Clint nods, and Bruce smiles wryly. "I've been lurking around here waiting for you to come back so I can ask about the cats." Clint blushes. "Tony let it slip, don't be mad. I'm mostly just curious."

Clint shrugs, and signs, _Something about animals makes it easier to talk. Didn't figure it mattered._

"It doesn't. Should we start an actual Avengers cat rescue, though? We could."

Clint smiles, and settles himself into Bruce's lap as the two of them work out the details. Within the month Clint's little friends are in a no-kill shelter, being properly fed and looked after instead of just getting cans of tuna during Clint's spare time. He has the run of the place and spends a lot of time there as his hands finish healing. Now it's after hours but Clint is still there, smiling as he watches half-grown kittens play fight. As Bruce comes up behind him the kittens break apart and the little black one goes to Clint, who murmurs, "Good kitty," petting its tiny face with one fingertip. Bruce hangs back, breathless and not wanting to break the spell, but Clint doesn't say anything else.

"Hey," Bruce says at last, and Clint looks around, smiling. He stands and goes to Bruce, giving him the kind of tight hug that he can again, nuzzling Bruce's jaw. Bruce shivers, and smiles. "Home?" Clint nods, and they head out, locking up behind them.


	7. Chapter 7

They haven't actually talked about or done anything besides hands and mouths, but now, sprawled naked across Bruce, Clint runs gentle fingertips up his inner thigh, stroking just behind Bruce's balls and giving him a meaningful look. Bruce shudders, and just nods, forcing himself to relax as Clint gently rubs his hole with one fingertip, pulling away to lubricate his fingers before coming back, kissing Bruce as he works the slick into him, just barely pressing with his forefinger. Bruce whimpers and squirms. He's never done this and not had it hurt a little, but it's usually worth it.

"S-slow, okay?"

Clint nods, kissing Bruce and just rubbing his way in, so incredibly gentle that Bruce can feel his eyes filling with tears. Clint blinks, looking at him with alarm, just the tip of the tip of his forefinger inside Bruce. "No, I'm okay, I just—it doesn't hurt." Clint stares for a moment, then kisses him again, soft and deep. He doesn't move at all as Bruce's body tenses again, and just presses lightly when it relaxes. Bruce whimpers into Clint's mouth, relaxing more as that one finger eases into him. Clint adds more lube, and it slides in up to the knuckle with no burning. Bruce groans, clamping down on Clint's finger. "Fuck, that's good." Clint smiles down at him, kissing him again before sliding down to nestle between Bruce's legs, the tip of his tongue working around the base of his finger, pointed and wet. 

Bruce groans, squirming and breaking into a light sweat. "God, Clint…" Clint just purrs and keeps at it, working Bruce open in gentle little circles, keeping him wet and never forcing him to go faster than he can adapt. It has never felt this good, and Bruce writhes and moans, clutching at the bedding and spreading his legs wider. He pants and tosses his head as Clint eases a second finger into him. It burns just a little and just for a moment, and then both fingers are inside him, stroking and pressing and making him whimper. Clint kisses Bruce's inner thigh, nuzzling and nibbling at he starts to fuck him with two fingers, slow and careful. Bruce groans, following it with a little keening noise he has never heard himself make as Clint adds a third finger and still more lube. Bruce moans and pushes down on them, groaning as Clint starts to lick him again. He keeps at it until Bruce is begging for his cock, legs wrapped around his waist. 

Clint shudders and nuzzles the base of Bruce's erection before sliding up his body to bite the crook of his neck, groaning quietly. "Clint, please," Bruce whimpers, and then moans as Clint finally complies, sinking into him. Clint keeps up the same slow pace, fucking Bruce easy and gentle and not kissing him until Bruce gasps that he doesn't care where Clint's mouth has been. Then he kisses Bruce hungrily, hips still rocking the same way

It doesn't take long after that, each slow thrust making Bruce groan. Clint's hips are canted just the right way and Bruce tells him so, babbling and gasping as Clint slides just a little deeper, making Bruce cry out. Clint shudders and moans, hands all over Bruce. He gently tugs at Bruce's chest hair and feels the lines of his chest to his waist, one hand going to clutch at Bruce's thigh, keeping it where it is before sliding up to squeeze Bruce's cock, the other hand supporting Bruce's head all the better to kiss him. Clint holds him close as the minutes stretch out into forever and then tighten up again as Bruce comes, shaking and crying out, Clint right behind him, making a harsh, soft noise and filling Bruce with heat.

They lie there together for a long time afterward, and then Bruce finally winces a little and eases Clint out. Clint looks at him in concern, and Bruce smiles. "I feel great, Clint. Don't worry about that part." Clint's grin back at him is like the sun coming up, and Bruce has no choice but to return it before kissing him again. Clint shivers happily at that, and wraps his arms tightly around Bruce, snuggling close.


	8. Chapter 8

Tony's flippant remark about a huge bag of weed wasn't entirely without insight. Bruce is fond of the stuff when he can get it, and the other guy seems to like it too. At least, when Bruce is stoned, things are… easier. The Hulk seems to mellow out just that little bit. Today Bruce is sitting on the roof, bare feet dangling over the void as a joint burns away between his thumb and forefinger. He has a pipe, but if it fell from this height it would probably kill someone. He takes a deep drag and holds it, looking around at the almost inaudible sound of bare feet on the roof, and smiles to see Clint. "Hey." Clint smiles back, and comes to sit beside him, kissing Bruce's cheek and then reaching for the joint with an enquiring look. Bruce hands it over. "I didn't bring enough for the whole class, but you can have some." Clint grins and takes a drag, tipping his head back and exposing the perfect lines of his throat. "Take a few," Bruce says, "catch up."

Clint does catch up. Bruce gets a little rambly when he's stoned, and Clint turns out to be a perfect audience for that, cuddling close and nodding in the right places. When the munchies strike he takes Bruce's hand and tugs him along to the kitchen, where he makes two of the frozen waffles he insists Tony keep in stock and covers them in peanut butter. A scoop of ice cream atop each one seems to complete the mess, and Bruce is deeply surprised at how much he enjoys his.

"This," Bruce intones, scraping up the last of his ice cream, "is genius."

Clint grins at him. "Thanks." He blinks, putting a hand to his mouth and then lightly touching his throat, like he's trying to figure out how the mechanism works. Bruce is still staring when Clint comes and hugs him tightly, whispering, "I love you," in his ear. Bruce beams and pulls Clint into his lap.

 _I love you, too_ Bruce signs, and Clint takes his hand and kisses it.

They're still sitting there like that when Tony finds them. He grins, sniffing the air. "Feeling mellow, Jolly Green?"

Bruce just grins at him. "So mellow."

 _Hey, Tony. I said it!_ Clint signs, and Tony applauds, coming close enough to pat Clint's shoulder.

"Fuck yeah, verbalization. You want a drink?" Clint shakes his head, and Tony goes to fix one for himself. "Who would've thought weed would be the key? Well, okay, I might have, but still." He turns back to them, still beaming. "I'm just glad you managed, anyway."

Bruce rolls his eyes. "I don't see why saying it is so important, Clint. I know you love me."

Clint beams and cups Bruce's face in his hands, kissing him. They both feel Tony watching, and glance over. "Sorry! Sorry, you two just look great together. I'm going."

Clint studies Tony for a moment, then looks to Bruce and raises an eyebrow. Bruce blushes. "You think?" Clint's smile turns wicked, and he nods slowly.

"Wait, are you…"

"He did say he'd take you if I didn't want you, Clint. Early on."

Clint looks at Tony again, and grins. "Wow," Bruce says, "I didn't know Tony Stark could blush."

"Cut me some slack, it's been awhile. Matter of fact, if you're thinking what I think you're thinking—"

"We're totally thinking that, Tony."

Tony's blush deepens, and he grins, taking a swig of his drink. "Good. Tell you what, I left a prototype in the oven anyway, so I'll just slide on down to the lab and let you two discuss me while stoned and again while sober. You know where I live." He adds, and waves as he heads back to the lab. Clint watches his ass as he goes, and nods approvingly before looking up at Bruce with a hint of anxiety.

"I'm possessive, but I don't mind sharing with a good friend. I think this could work out."

They talk about it long after the high has worn off, and it keeps seeming like a good idea. Clint texts Tony to tell him so, because he's in the lab either again or still, it's hard to be sure.

 _Awesome, you guys want a dick pic back?_

Clint shows this response to Bruce who just groans and facepalms as Clint types back that they would absolutely love one.


	9. Chapter 9

Bruce doesn't drink, but he takes the half-glass of good red wine Tony offers him before his first-ever threesome. He's sure Tony has had dozens, and Clint had told him all about a very interesting evening with Natasha and a cute boy from Budapest. Bruce can't help but feel like the hopeless nerd he is, and he sips the wine slowly, fighting against a sudden shy attack that's making his skin crawl. Clint looks at him, concerned, and Bruce smiles. 

"I'm all right."

"Hey, we're in no hurry," Tony says, already on his second glass, "and you're fucking gorgeous and this is going to be a good time. Scout's honor."

"You were never a Boy Scout, Tony."

"You're right, I fucking hate camping." He comes and sits beside them on the couch, leaning on Bruce. "But I meant what I said."

Bruce chuckles, and wraps an arm around him. "I know." He kisses Tony's cheek, nuzzling his beard and shivering. "I just… stage fright, I guess."

"Well. Don't worry." Tony turns his head and plucks Bruce's glasses off, kissing his temple. Bruce trembles and then whimpers as Tony claims his mouth, kissing him slow and deep. Clint wraps his arms around Bruce's waist, pressing his chest to Bruce's back and nuzzling his neck as Tony kisses him senseless. Bruce really has no choice but to moan and melt, raising his arms to help as Clint pulls his shirt off. "Love the chest bush, Bruce," Tony says, nipping Bruce's lower lip and then nuzzling his chest. Clint reaches around and grabs Tony's hair, guiding him to one nipple. "Oh?" He mumbles around the nub, "is that so?" Clint just chuckles, and Bruce gasps as Tony sucks and nibbles and licks.

"Oh fuck, Tony…"

"You like that?" He asks, eyes sparkling as he looks up at Bruce.

"God, yes."

Clint chuckles again and kisses Bruce's cheek, pulling away to get his own shirt off. "Aw, god _damn_ ," Tony says, sizing him up. Clint actually poses, and Bruce laughs. Tony grins. "Fuck yeah, tickets to the gun show. Bet you don't skip leg day, either." By way of an answer, Clint just grins and pulls off his pants. "Jesus, Banner, you are one lucky bastard."

"I am," Bruce agrees.

"I'm also one lucky bastard, because I have both of you and a bed, which I think we should move to."

"Yeah," Bruce agrees, getting up and stretching. Tony watches Clint watch Bruce, and sighs.

"God, this is gonna be so awesome."

Clint grins, and leads the way to the bed, hopping onto it and lounging like cat before peeling off his boxer briefs and flinging them aside. "Lord have mercy," is all Tony says, joining Clint and giving him a deep and hungry kiss. They're beautiful together, and deep down inside the Hulk twitches uneasily at just how well they fit, but then Clint is looking at Bruce again and reaching for him. Bruce strips and joins them on the bed where they both simultaneously realize that Tony is still fully clothed and gang up on him, stripping him to his skin as fast as they can without being too rough. Tony just laughs and lets them, so vulnerable and trusting with his scarred chest bared for them. Bruce just has to kiss him, and Clint nuzzles the circular scar, one calloused hand wandering down to squeeze Tony's cock.

Tony groans and writhes, clutching at Bruce's back. "So," he gasps, "how you wanna do this?"

"Clint?" They've talked over a few possibilities, and now Clint just smiles and stretches out on his back, pulling Tony onto him. Bruce shudders, and Tony groans, looking over his shoulder at Bruce and spreading his legs.

"Well?"

"Yes," Bruce growls.

"Lube and condoms in the drawer," Tony gasps, and then Clint is kissing him senseless as Bruce gathers up the supplies. He slicks his fingers and starts to work Tony open. Tony gasps and whines, shaking hand grabbing the lube and starting to do the same to Clint, who groans and wraps his legs around them both. Tony opens easily for Bruce, finally begging for his cock as he shoves back on three fingers. Clint whines as Tony stretches him, and moans as he watches Tony's eyes widen and then flutter shut as Bruce rolls on a condom and sinks into him.

"Oh, fuck," Tony whimpers, and presses up and back, taking all of Bruce with a deep groan. Clint kisses him and then meets Bruce's eyes over his shoulder. Bruce shudders and nibbles Tony's ear, gripping his cock and putting a condom on it as he whispers, "He's ready, Tony."

Tony groans, and looks into Clint's eyes, stroking his hair with one hand. Clint turns his head and kisses the palm, looking up and nodding. "Great," Tony gasps, and groans deep in his chest as he pushes into Clint. Clint just shakes and whines, gripping Tony's ass and holding him open for Bruce even as he pulls him deeper. Tony moans and lets Bruce set the pace, which turns out to be deep and fast. Bruce is feeling possessive again, and uses Tony to fuck Clint, driving him in deep and holding there, grinding into Tony and making him do the same to Clint, both of them keening softly at the pressure. Tony groans and kisses Clint, whimpering into his mouth as Bruce speeds up, all of them breathing hard and close to coming. Predictably enough, Tony breaks first, howling and bucking between them, and then Clint is jacking his own cock roughly and coming in less than five strokes, moaning as he shakes and squeezes both of them with strong legs. Bruce growls and thrusts into Tony a few more times, so hard it makes him let out a desperate little squeaking noise with each one, wide-eyed and over-sensitized. Clint shudders and kisses him, stroking his hair. Both of them quiver when Bruce comes with a loud, deep growl.

"Fffuck," Tony breathes, carefully easing off of Bruce.

"Sorry."

"For what? Shit. That was amazing."

"I just got a little rougher than I meant to."

"Well, it was fucking amazing, big guy. Don't worry about that." He eases out of Clint, who shivers and purrs. Bruce smiles at him.

"Having a good time?"

Clint offers a double thumbs-up, and grins.


End file.
